


Facing the music

by Maril



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade and Side Burn are good bros, Bring tissues, Falling Apart, Famous Jazz, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sparkbreak, getting together again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23750662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maril/pseuds/Maril
Summary: For Prowl Week 2020Being with someone famous is never easy.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 76
Kudos: 92
Collections: Prowl Week





	1. Crash

Prowl stared at the table, unable to keep the tears from falling from his optics. All this work, for nothing. Again. He filled his cup with engex and downed it in one go. And again. And again. And again, until his processor felt fuzzy and his sorrows were easier to bear. Then his gaze fell upon the meal he had prepared and tears started to spill down his cheeks once again. 

It was _Jazz’s_ favourite meal, his favourite treats, and Prowl had taken extra time to make everything perfect. From the food, to the drinks, the dimly lit room and the candles; Prowl had even thought about some classical music as background. He had wanted this evening to be perfect. It would have been the first one in _two fragging vorns_ , but apparently Jazz didn’t even have time to celebrate their four hundred vorns anniversary.

Prowl couldn’t stand the sight of the food anymore and threw it in the trash, then took the bottle of engex and finished it in one go. He couldn’t take this anymore, being no one to Jazz. When Jazz came back to their apartment, Prowl would be gone. He wasn’t some mech beneath the now famous singer, he wasn’t someone who would just wait obediently at their apartment until Jazz decided he wanted to frag Prowl.

The enforcer stared at his servos clutching at the bottle. If he even needed Prowl to get ‘faced. It wasn’t hard for Prowl to imagine his lover with some besotted fan, and he darted for the washracks, purging his tanks. Oh, Primus. He was crying again – or still? Prowl didn’t know. His spark felt as if it had shattered into millions and millions of pieces. How could a mech endure such pain?

Prowl dragged himself to their – his – Jazz’s – berthroom and stared at the berth, unable to move forward and lay down. They had owned the berth since Prowl had earned his first salary, a quartex after graduating university. It hadn’t been much, Prowl had only been a rookie officer back then, but he had wanted to buy something special for himself and Jazz, and Jazz had suggested a berth.

The berth had stayed with them whenever they moved. That had been three hundred and fifty vorns ago. Abruptly, Prowl turned around and laid down on the couch. He could recharge here, this piece of furniture didn’t have as many memories as the berth. Tears were still falling from his optics, even after he had shuttered them.

***

The next morning, Prowl woke up with one pit of a processor ache. He groaned, turned – and fell from the berth. He yelped as he landed in an undignified heap on the floor, but luckily he had managed to twist and not fall on his wings. Then he stared as his optics registered that he had fallen off the _couch_ and not his berth, and the events of the previous evening came to his mind. 

Jazz not showing up for their date, even though he had promised. Without excuse. Before, Jazz had at least always commed Prowl to give some flimsy reason as to why he couldn’t come, having some important sound check or rehearsal or blah, blah, blah. 

Prowl rose to his pedes with sluggish movements, his processor pounding. A brief check with his chronometer told him that he could make it to his shift if he hurried up. He hadn’t asked for a free orn, having more or less expected that Jazz wouldn’t show up. His tactical systems and battle simulator had showed him that the probability of the Polyhexian showing up was nearly equal zero.

The Praxian managed to make himself presentable, to not look as if he was on the verge of a break-down. It wouldn’t do appearing anything less than perfect, less than what he was supposed to be. A single tear rolled down his cheek and Prowl wiped it away, anger rising up in him. Why was he so affected by this? He should have known this would happen, he should have known that this could not have lasted forever. 

Clenching his dentae, Prowl left the apartment, determined to not allow any sign of weakness. He didn’t need Jazz, he could live just fine on his own. Prowl transformed and drove to his station, hoping that some work would distract him from what was happening. 

He arrived just on time, and his colleagues greeted him just as they would any other orn. Prowl felt himself relax, and his doorwings lowered themselves to a more comfortable angle. No one could tell something was wrong with him. Good. 

Prowl’s office was on the top floor, being Second in Command to the Chief Enforcer. Quickgait was an old mech, and he had held this position for several thousand vorns after his predecessor had been killed during an investigation. It was an open secret that Quickgait wanted to retire in the next few vorns, and that Prowl was to be his successor. 

“Look who’s there. Do I know you, stranger?” 

Prowl flinched and turned around, a guilty expression on his face. Two mechs were exiting the office he had just passed, one black and purple with a purple chevron and one white and all kinds of blue with a red chevron. Both had red optics and regal wings hovering behind their backs, proudly showing their Enforcer decals. “Barricade, Side Burn.”

“He does know us.” Side Burn said, turning to Barricade with an overly surprised look. 

Barricade crossed his arms. “Really? I have a feeling we need to remind him.” Then he frowned. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to have this orn off? Big anniversary or something?”

Prowl couldn’t help flinching, and his doorwings drooped low. He quickly turned away and basically ran to his office, already feeling the coolant gathering in his optics. Primus, was this never going to end? Would the sole hint to Jazz bring him to the verge of tears?

“Prowl?” Barricade’s soft, worried tone broke through the black and white’s despair. 

“What?” He asked, voice rough. 

A sigh, then, “What’s the matter? Everything okay between you and Jazz?” 

“No.” Prowl whispered. “No, it’s not.” He turned to face his brothers, not bothering to hide his tears. “He didn’t show up. Didn’t even say anything beforehand.” 

“Mechs forget stuff.” Side Burn said. 

Prowl gave him an empty look. “For the last two vorns?”

Side Burn looked away, even he couldn’t find anything to defend the famous singer. Barricade cursed softly before engulfing Prowl in a hug, and against the warm, comforting plating of his older brother, Prowl finally allowed himself to break down.

***

Taking out Prowl’s stuff from the apartment only took four trips, since Barricade and Side Burn helped Prowl move out. Staring one last time at the place, Prowl couldn’t believe this was happening. Four hundred vorns of Prowl’s life. Four hundred vorns, gone. It hurt. So much. He had once thought that Jazz was going to be the mech he would bond his spark to. Prowl shuttered his optics and clenched his fists, then, with new determination, he threw the key in the mail and transformed, driving away from that cursed place.

Barricade had a spare room that Prowl could use, and the monochrome mech would stay with his brother until he had a new apartment. With the promotion coming up, he would be able to look for something nicer in a better neighbourhood, as well. But, that still had time. For now, Prowl would concentrate on not messing up his life even more than it already was.

Still, Jazz had been the centre of his life for so long, and to suddenly have him gone… Prowl doubled over, clutching at his abdomen, and crashed.


	2. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work would be a great way to disract oneself from a failed relationship, if a certain ex wouldn't decide to call. 
> 
> After two quartexes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for the comments and the kudos, they made me smile:)
> 
> Chapter specific warnings for non-con drug use, but it's not too explicit. 
> 
> ::comms::

::Barricade, my office.:: 

Prowl was sitting in aforementioned room, stylus tapping idly on his ‘pad as he read through the draft once more. He needed his brother’s input for this raid if he wanted it to go smoothly. And Prowl needed it to go off without a hitch, it was too important for it _not_ to.

“You called?” 

Prowl lifted his helm and smiled ever so slightly at his older brother. “Please, take a seat. I trust you are familiar with Operation Boost?” 

“Yeah, I’m to lead the squad going in. What do you need?” The black and purple mech sprawled in his chair, but contrary to his posture, his full attention was on his brother. 

Prowl pressed his lips together. “Shoot to harm, not kill. We need the suspects for interrogation.” Prowl drew up a map of the docking bay. “Intel says they have their spaceship parked in bay 67, and they are going to load it with circuit boosters tonight.” 

“Wait, bay 67?” Barricade interrupted the monochrome Praxian and pulled a datapad from his subspace. He scrolled through the information written on it, then made a surprised sound. “I requested a list of all shuttles and ships currently at the spaceport, and security forwarded the information earlier this morning. Bay 67 is currently a transport from Velocitron’s shipping company Surge Celerity.”

“Velocitron?” Prowl repeated with a frown. “Why would they…” He trailed off, then dug through one of his drawers for another ‘pad. “Circuit and concentration boosters, speed enhancers… and not of the good kind.” He tapped the screen with his index. “One dose of any of these, and you’re immediately hooked up. And there’s only treatment for the concentration boosters.”

“I get that we need to stop them, but consider two things, Prowl: One, this could start off an interplanetary incident, and two, which mob do we know of produces these three specific drugs?” 

Prowl shuttered his optics. “Oh, frag.” Not so much the interplanetary problem, Prowl was sure he could justify his raid. No, the problem was the mob responsible for producing the drugs and in charge of this deal. They had ties to the Lord of Praxus and the jury. They used to have officers on their payroll, but the current chief’s predecessor had been responsible for cleaning the Enforcer Corp. Still, the Crystalshard family’s reach was long, and to attack them, Prowl would need an airtight case.

“Get narcotics on the case, ‘Cade, I will talk to the chief.” Golden optics met red ones. “Prepare your team. We need this to work, no mistakes allowed. If the Crystalshard’s have even the faitnest idea about what we are planning–”

“It’ll be real bad, I know.” Barricade rose to his peds, and Prowl followed him suit. “I know. Don’t worry, Prowlie, it’ll be fine.” 

“Do not call me that.” Prowl brushed by his brother to the office door. “And please, no overconfidence on your side. I really do not need another busted raid because you got cocky.” 

Barricade chuckled. “I was a rookie back then, brother mine, and we were both to blame.” 

“Funny.” Prowl replied, “I remember being knocked off a building by my own brother before the raid even started because you tried to show off to that ‘pretty’ officer from Iacon. What’s his designation again?”

Barricade grumbled. 

“What was that?” 

“His name’s Bumblebee, alright?” Barricade growled, his wings high on his back with annoyance. 

Prowl hid a smirk. “Quite. Now off you go, and be ready at fiftieth joor, we have a family to bring down.” 

***

Prowl was standing in the hub, screens positioned around him in a semicircle. He had a visual from every operative, as they were transmitting live from their installed recorders. The recording devices were enforcer standard, which meant that everything passing Prowl’s screens could also be used at court. 

Right now, Prowl had several angles on docking bay 67, a speedy and streamlined spaceship standing right in the middle. It must be a newer model from Velocitron, Prowl wasn’t familiar with this type of spacecraft.

Barricade gave a low whistle over their shared comms. ::Now _that’s_ a starship. Never thought I’d get to see one. Primus, the things I’d do to call one of these my own…::

::Barricade, focus on the mission. Wait for the deal to happen, then go in after the boosters have been loaded and after their dealer left. I want them all alive, understood?::

::Crystal clear, Sir.:: 

Prowl allowed himself a small smile at the abrupt change from being Barricade, his brother to being Barricade, decorated Detective. Silence washed over them, and the only sounds were the creaking of struts as the officers in the room with Prowl shifted their weights. Side Burn was just to Prowl’s right, arms crossed and a serious expression on his faceplate for once, as he watched what was happening on the screens. He had been sent over from narcotics to aid Prowl, the enforcer board knew that the three brothers were an excellent team. 

::Dispatch, do you see that?:: An officer suddenly piped up, adjusting his optics to a point at the far corner of the bay, near to where Barricade and his squad must have been. Prowl quickly checked his brother’s recording, but couldn’t find anything. He looked back to the officer who had spoken and narrowed his optics. It almost looked like…

::Barricade, move your squad away from your position, now!:: Prowl commanded. ::They have a sharp–:: He broke off when the corner of one of his screen suddenly shook and went staticky. ::You have been found out. Go in and engage, get me whoever is in there, I want them alive! Emergency services are on their way. Barricade, tell your sharpshooters to position themselves and fire at will.:: 

Prowl turned to his younger brother. “How did they find out?” 

Side Burn shook his helm. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a con, to lure out a traitor, maybe we have a leak.” The brothers exchanged a look. 

“If we do…” Prowl hummed lowly. “If we do, I will lead investigations myself. But we can’t tell for sure, we need more evidence.” 

“Yeah, I agree, but–”

::The bay is secured, and we managed to capture ten mechs.:: Barricade suddenly announced. ::Moving to the ship.:: Some silence, then – ::Prowl, you won’t believe this.::

The monochrome Praxian stared at the part of the screen displaying his brother’s recording, and the Energon in his lines froze. “Primus.” 

Side Burn made a disbelieving sound. “That must be at least five tons of boosters.”

A black servo moved onto the screen as Barricade opened of the ten crates neatly stacked in the cargo hold of the ship and opened one of them. Small crates after small crates were filling every inch of the container, and Barricade pulled out one of them. He opened it, showing carefully stowed vials with a purple liquid inside of them. 

“Circuit boosters, but these aren’t the really bad stuff.” Side Burn said softly. “Still, you’re in for one pit of a ride should you take one of these. Not every mech or femme can handle these.”

::Secure everything.:: Prowl ordered. ::Narcotics are on their way. Bring in the prisoners. Good work.::

::Thanks, sir.::

::See, not that bad, bro.:: Barricade said. ::Now go home and get some recharge, I know you haven’t slept well since – Ugh!::

::Barricade!:: Prowl and Side Burn cried out as the screen suddenly went staticky. Their bond to their oldest brother was suddenly filled with agony, and Side Burn doubled over. Prowl managed to remain standing straight by sheer stubbornness. ::What happened?::

::Someone stabbed him with one of the vials. We managed to catch him, Sir.:: Someone answered. 

::Good. He’s top priority.::

::She, Sir, it’s a femme. We’ll bring her in immediately.:: 

::See that you do. Prowl out.:: The monochrome Praxian switched comm frequencies. ::Sir, permission to stay at HQ and interrogate the prisoners?::

::Permission denied.:: Chief Quickgait replied. ::I’ve heard what just happened. They brought your brother to the Solus Clinic. Go and be there for him. Same goes for Side Burn.::

::But, sir –::

::No buts. Goodnight, Prowl.::

::Yes, sir.:: Prowl ground out. He turned to Side Burn and flicked his wings. “It appears that we are going to the hospital.”

Side Burn gave him a lopsided smile. “Then let’s go.”

***

The medics told them that Barricade would make full recovery, he just needed to purge the booster from his systems and he would have to stay in the hospital overnight so that they could keep an optic on him and treat any symptoms he presented.

Side Burn and Prowl went home together, driving to Barricade’s apartment where Prowl was still living after having moved there two quartexes ago. Primus, two quartexes. Prowl still couldn’t believe he’d broken up with Jazz.

“Have you already looked for a new apartment?” Side Burn asked while warming up some Energon for Prowl and himself.

“No not yet.” Prowl sighed and sat down on the couch. “I was too preoccupied with work and…” Prowl accepted the cube and stared into the steaming pink liquid. He took a calming vent. “I have only ever lived with Jazz.” 

“Oh, Prowl.” Side Burn put down his cube and against Prowl’s side, hugging him tightly. “Did he say something to you about moving out?”

Prowl put down his cube as well and buried his face in his servos. “No. I doubt he even noticed I am gone.”

Side Burn hugged him again, his arm awkwardly going around Prowl’s neck as he pressed himself against his brother’s back. “I’m so sorry, Prowl. But do you know what helps?” He pulled something out of his subspace and held it into Prowl’s faceplate. 

Golden optics blinked. “What… Side Burn, how did you Vosnian high grade?” 

Side Burn smirked. “I have my ways.” He added a shot to his and Prowl’s Energon. “Cheers, Prowlie, to our brother currently lying in the hospital, trying to get down from his trip.” 

Prowl sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “To both him and you, for helping me through this.” 

“That’s a given. You’re our brother.” Side Burn replied and smiled.

The older Praxian opened his mouth to answer, when his systems alerted him to an incoming call. Absentmindedly he answered, expecting an officer to report to him. 

Instead – ::Prowl? Why is yer stuff gone from our apartment?::

Prowl chocked on his Energon. :: _Jazz?_ ::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the second chapter, comments and kudos are welcomed, as always!;)


	3. Law/Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making matters worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for the comments and kudos, you're the best! <3
> 
> Also, unfortunately we have seven chapters in total, which means no happy end just yet. My heart bleeds for them...

Prowl panicked. Of course he would never admit it to anyone, but it was the simple truth. He hung up on Jazz. Just like that. His spark clenched, and his vents sped up. This wasn’t good. 

“Prowl?” Side Burn’s worried faceplate shoved itself into the monochrome’s Praxian visual field. 

“I –” Again someone contacted him on his private comm, and this time Prowl was able to see Jazz’s ID. ::What.::

::Whoa. Ya a’right?::

Prowl stared incredulously at his brother. ::Am I – Am I alright? No, Jazz, I am _not_ alright!::

A pause. ::That somethin’ t’ do with why yer stuff’s gone?::

::Yes.:: Side Burn frowned, and Prowl sighed. “It’s Jazz.” 

“Oh.” Side Burn rose from the couch. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

::Wha’d’ya mean with tha’? And _why_ is yer stuff gone?:: Jazz sounded concerned, Prowl could tell that even over comms. He bit his lower lip. ::Prowler?::

::My designation is Prowl, Jazz, it is not that hard to remember.:: Prowl bit out. ::And your call just confirmed I made the right decision.::

:: _What?_ ::

::I moved out two quartexes ago, and you never even noticed.:: The enforcer replied through gritted dentae. ::Don’t I feel special.::

::Ya _wha’?_ Why?::

Prowl clenched his fists. ::You even have to ask why? When was the last time we did something together? And interfacing does not count.:: Silence. ::And talking about interfacing, when was the last time you made love to me?::

::Basically right b’fore ya left.:: Jazz replied, and it wasn’t all too hard to detect the shock in his voice.

::Oh, really? That was more _fragging_ me for your pleasure. I can tell you when we made love the last time, and that was the night of your breakthrough. _Seventy vorns ago_.:: Prowl wiped angrily at his face, but it was no use. The tears kept coming. ::I am sick of it, sick of waiting in our apartment night after night, hoping and hoping that you will join me, only to have my spark crushed for every joor I spend alone. I am sick of wondering weather or not you are kept by rehearsal or some pretty fan. And you didn’t even notice I was gone, not after two quartexes. You were the world for me, Jazz, but apparently I am not even worth a thought to you. So goodbye, and do not try to contact me again.:: Prowl cut the line before Jazz could say something, then broke down on the couch.

Before, it had just been him moving out of their apartment, now he had broken up with Jazz. _He had broken up with Jazz._ Prowl’s engine hiccupped and he sobbed, burying his face in his servos. Jazz had been the only mech he had ever been with, the mech he had given his seals to. Jazz had been the mech he had wanted to bond to, the mech whose sparklings he wanted to carry. Still did, in fact. But Prowl had been on enough cases with unhealthy relationships to know how this would end. And if there was anything that Prowl was, it was strong. It just would take time until he stopped hurting. 

Warm arms gathered him close and Prowl buried his face in his younger brother’s chest. His servos clung to Side Burn’s frame, grounding him to something solid, something real. Their fields mingled, and Prowl drank in the safety and love his brother emitted. It took a while, but he eventually fell asleep, tears still wet on his face.

***

Jazz stared at the wall opposite to him, emptiness all he was feeling. _What the frag had just happened?_ He unsubspaced a small silver box and flicked it open, staring at the delicate ornament made of platinum. Small rubies and sapphires sparkled like little stars, and in the middle of the brooch, a small silver crystal gleamed through the darkness. It had reminded Jazz of Prowl and himself when he had seen it in the jewellery store, and he had known he needed to get it for Prowl.

As a bonding gift.

He closed the box and quickly put it back int his subspace before he could do something foolish and destroy it. _What the frag had just happened?_ Everything had been perfect! Prowl had his job with the enforcers, a dream he had had since younglinghood. And Jazz was living his passion, being a famous singer. Well, his alias Folgore was. Jazz was a no one. 

There had been no sign, nothing, for Jazz to know that something had been wrong. Not until he had returned home, brooch in his subspace and with the intention to propose to his amazing lover, only to find said lover’s stuff gone from their apartment. _What the frag had just happened?_ His thoughts kept returning to that one single question. 

Jazz took off his visor and flung it against the wall, watching it burst into tiny shards. How could Prowl even think Jazz would cheat on him? He screamed his pain into the dark room. It didn’t help. The singer stormed out of his apartment, ran to the lane and transformed. Ignoring the speed limits, he raced the familiar way to his best friend’s apartment building. Using his key, Jazz didn’t bother announcing himself. He used the elevator to get to the correct floor (high up where the view was amazing, of course) and entered the flat. 

The noises stopped immediately, and after a moment of silence, Jazz could hear scrambling steps. “Who’s there?”

“Jus’ me.” Jazz replied.

“Jazz?” 

The singer tried to smile at the large red and golden mech. “Hey, Blast. How’s it hangin’?”

Blaster frowned at him. “Shouldn’t you be with your by-now-intended?”

Jazz gave an empty laugh. “He’s gone.”

The host mech blinked his optics. “Come again?”

“He’s gone. Moved outta our ‘partment two quartexes ago, ‘pparently.” Jazz ran a servo over his face and noticed that his visor was still gone. “Primus, how could I not’ve known?”

“I thought everything was perfect between the two of you?” Blaster asked with a frown. 

Jazz barked out a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Tha’s wha’ I thought! Wha’ do I do now? I can’t… He’s everythin’ t’ me, Blaster.” 

The large mech put his arm around one of Jazz’s shoulders and steered him to his couch. His cassettes stared at them as they entered the living room, but soundlessly left the room at Blaster’s urging. 

“Tell me everything, and I’ll help you get him back, promised.” 

Jazz smiled tiredly at him. “Thanks. Yer a real friend.” 

Blaster chuckled softly. “Anything for you, Jazz.”

***

Barricade had been released the next morning, completely clean and highly embarrassed. He had another free orn, but Prowl insisted he write his report as soon as possible, while the event was still fresh on his mind (as much as he remembered due to being drugged, anyways). He couldn’t spare his brother’s delicate feelings for something as important as this case. 

It turned out that only the first row of crates had the light drugs, the rest had ‘really hard stuff’, according to Side Burn. Their quality and consistency had the mark of the Crystalshard’s family chemist written all over them. 

Still, it didn’t proof anything, and Prowl needed some evidence soon to continue this case. Quickgait had already warned him that the Lord of Praxus would soon learn about the raid, and should Prowl be unable to find hard evidence with an obvious link to the Crystalshard’s, the Lord would close the case. 

A low growl escaped the monochrome enforcer as he pondered over the pictures and videos from the crime scene. Except for the drugs, there was no link. Their prisoners didn’t talk, and hacking them or torture would render any evidence invalid, so Prowl had no way of forcing them to tell the truth. It was frustrating, really, to be so close to taking down a major mob family, and yet there was no solid link present. 

That half of Prowl’s processor was preoccupied with a certain black and white Polyhexian didn’t help, either. Prowl sighed deeply and his doorwings drooped. It was becoming a real problem. Every time he saw a combination of Jazz’s colours, he would think of him, unable to focus on work.

He rubbed his chevronshield and shuttered his optics. He missed Jazz. Missed him so much it physically hurt sometimes. But he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, especially right now. Though, in accord with his current luck, he was not able to catch a break. 

“…you are not allowed to be here!”

“I don’ care! I will talk t’ th’ Commander!”

Prowl froze on his chair. What was Jazz doing here? The door to his office opened and true enough, his ex was standing right there, a flustered rookie behind him. 

“Sir, I’m so sorry, but he –”

“It is alright, Windcharger. I will handle this.” Prowl interrupted him and rose from his chair. 

Windcharger looked between the two of them, then nodded. “Of course, sir.” He left, and the door closed with an ominous finality.

Prowl didn’t look at Jazz. His golden optics were trained on a datapad on his desk, but even so he could see just fine how the Polyhexian was shuffling on his peds through his wings. “I told you not to seek me out.” Prowl finally said. 

“Ya said not t’ call ya ‘gain.” Jazz replied. “Please, love, let me explain –”

Prowl’s helm shot up. “No.” He said angrily. “I have had enough of your excuses. Which is why I am so surprised you are here. Do you not have something better to do? Like being on a meeting? Some rehearsal? Or maybe a soundcheck?” His growled lowly. “If all you wish to do is telling me another excuse of how you were unable to even _tell_ me one for our four hundred vorns anniversary, you may show yourself out right now.” 

Despite him wearing a visor, Prowl could tell that Jazz was shocked. Ice spread through the enforcer, while his spark froze with pain. “You do not even remember we had our anniversary two quartexes ago.” There was a desperate expression on the singer’s face, but before he could open his mouth, Prowl’s comm beeped. He raised a servo to forestall anything Jazz might have said, and answered. ::Prowl.::

::Prowl, it’s Side Burn. We just heard there is another deal happening in sixteen breems. Shuttle bay 93.:: 

::I will be at the Hub in a breem. Do you have everything set up?:: Prowl started gathering datapads, empty and filled ones alike, then moved towards the door. 

::Yeah, we’re just waiting for them to arrive and you to be here.::

::Alright. I will be right there.:: Prowl replied. “Show yourself out, Jazz. If you are still here when I return, I will file a report against you.” 

“Wha’? On what?” 

The enforcer pushed past him and stepped onto the floor. “It is against the law to enter an enforcer building without permission.” And with that he left Jazz in his office, black servos clutching a small silver box. He headed to the Hub with a heavy spark, every step away from Jazz harder than the previous one. 

This was the right thing to do, it had to be.

The why did it feel as if he had committed a crime against his spark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Sensory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz had an idea. Prowl disapproves. Strongly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure it meets the prompt... well, whatever.
> 
> And, oh my gosh, I' speechless. Thank you so much for the comment and kudos for the last chapter!!! You deserve all the virtual brownies you want!
> 
> Also, I didn't have time for proof-reading, since it's literally one minute before midnight. If you find any glaring mistake, please tell me!

“Well, frag.”

Prowl didn’t voice it, but he wholesparkedly agreed with his chief. Behind the one-way mirror of the interrogation room, a gold and red mech was sitting, elegantly decorated doorwings raised at a high angle. That mech was no one else but the Lord’s creation, Firespark. 

“He’ll be faster out on bail faster than we can say ‘Prime’.” Side Burn said from Prowl’s right. “It doesn’t matter how high it’ll be, Lord Stardust has more shanix than the entirety of Crystal City.”

“Then let’s try to get as much money from him as we can; we dearly need it.” Quickgait said tiredly. “You did an excellent job, but it seems that this investigation has come to an end.” 

“No.” Prowl spread his wings. “We cannot allow him to get away with a slap on his wrist. We need to put him away, and we need him to take down the Crystalshards.”

Quickgait gave him a sad smile. “I admire your drive for justice, Prowl, and this quality of yours is what whill make you an excellent chief. But we also have to deal with politics, and unfortunately for us, no one’s influence is stronger than the Lord’s.”

“But they are not above the law.” Prowl replied. He glared at Firespark. The prince had a bored expression on his faceplate and was inspecting the tip of his fingers. Firespark probably knew that his lawyer would get him out in a matter of kliks. “He was at the scene of crime, caught in the very act. It’s enough to put him behind bars –”

“The jury will offer bail for him.” Quickgait interrupted him. “No matter how airtight you make your case, until you solid proof of his connection to the Crystalshards he will get away.” Prowl made a frustrated sound and the chief placed a servo on his shoulder. “I’ll try and find a way to keep him for an orn. If you can get me the evidence until then, evidence the defence won’t be able to tear down or find a loophole in, you can make your case. Otherwise, that’s it.”

“Chief…” Prowl shook his helm. “I would need more than just an orn to get you that much.”

Quickgait chuckled. “If anyone can work miracles, it’s you. Unfortunately, the favours I am able to call in just go that far. One orn, Prowl. Make me proud.” The purple servo squeezed Prowl’s shoulder affectionately, then the chief left. 

“Well, aren’t I glad to not be in your peds.” Side Burn said. “I can interrogate him, if you want to, you go and inspect the crime scenes.” 

Prowl flicked a doorwing in thanks, then walked as fast as he could out of the building and onto the street.

***

There wasn’t a lot to see on the scene. The shuttle had long since been emptied by forensic, and their staff had trampled over any evidence their might have been. The first scene had already been cleared for use, so no point in going over there. Prowl growled in frustration. He had really hoped to find something, but it appeared that Quickgait’s prediction was coming true. 

Prowl wouldn’t give up without a fight though. It wasn’t right that the high and mighty were able to walk free only because they had more money or better connection to high places. It was especially not correct that the Royal Family was above the law.

But theory and reality were never the same, and Prowl had to admit that he had had to let go a few criminals because of their connections. He had hoped that with Quickgait’s predecessor’s clean up the corruption and turning blind optics to certain injustices were in the past, but the rust had already accumulated and was present even now. 

Prowl sighed. He wouldn’t find anything here. Black and white doorwings fluttered and Prowl dialled up their sensitivity. They had detected something that hadn’t been here before, and he wanted to know what it was. A brush of air on his left wing… The enforcer whirled around and pressed the suspect against the wall, only to find himself at the other end of the barrel of a gun. 

“Release me.” The speaker was a delicate gold and green femme with a purple chevron. It matched her striking purple optics, which shone with intelligence. Golden doorwings were encrusted with a myriad of tiny transparent crystals and glittering madly. 

“It is a crime to attack an officer of the law.” Prowl said steadily. 

She scoffed. “Doesn’t safe you should I decide to shoot you.” 

“If that was your intention, you already would have.” Prowl tilted his helm. “What do you want?”

She grinned, baring a row of sharp dentae. “Aren’t you a clever one.” She lowered her gun. “Alright, let me go. I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

Prowl frowned. “What do you mean?” 

The femme’s grin widened. “Well, considering you showed up here, the very place a deal should have taken place, tells me you are desperate to get evidence to put someone behind bars. Am I right so far?” She waited for Prowl’s reluctant nod before she continued. “Well, I want that certain someone gone, too, as well as to get away from my family. I’m sick of what they’re doing, and I want an out.” 

Golden optics narrowed. “Your family?” It she was who Prowl was beginning to suspect she was, this might very well be the break-through he needed in this case. 

“Hm, I should’ve introduced myself.” She held out a green servo. Prowl noticed the golden crystals on the back of it and made a note to himself to get some. Jazz would – he stopped the thought. Jazz didn’t matter anymore. “Highlight of House Crystalshard.” She lifted Prowl’s servo to her lips and pressed a kiss to it. “At your service. Now, it would only be polite to introduce yourself as well.” 

Prowl blinked at her mannerisms, and shook his helm. “Prowl, Second in Command to Chief Quickgait.” He took his servo back. “I find it hard to believe that what you said is true.” 

Highlight scoffed and subspaced her gun. “Believe it or not, it’s true. My carrier runs a harsh business, and I’ve seen more corpses than I care for.” Her gaze darkened. “Also, that good-for-nothing lordling cheated on me with a _fragging servant in my own home_ ; the longer he is put away, the better.”

“Who?” 

“Firespark.” She opticked him. “You do have him in custody?”

“We do.” Prowl replied. “What do you get out of this deal?” 

“Firespark in prison – ha, I really want to see how he’ll survive this! – my family brought down and my freedom, and total amnesty from you.” She said, raising one finger for every demand. “Also, witness protection. Wouldn’t do me any good to be killed by some forgotten cleaner or so.”

Prowl shook his helm. “You suggest we let you go.” 

Highlight huffed. “I know my reputation, okay? I know why you’re so hesitant to agree to my little deal, but look, Prowl, you’d get to finally take down the biggest crime family in Praxus, and several little ones as well.” She wiggled her wings. “I’ll give you full cooperation, whatever you want. And if it’s just access to my frame, whatever. I don’t particularly care.”

“I am not corrupt.” Prowl hissed. “Nor do I want you.” 

She smirked. “Got a lover? Didn’t peg you the type.” 

“I am not a type.” Prowl replied and turned around. “Come. I will talk to Chief Quickgait, and we will see what we can do.”

“You get on your public route, _I_ will take a less open one.” Highlight folded down to her alt mode. “Race you to the precinct.” 

***

It was Prowl’s every intention to look for Quickgait the moment he arrived at HQ and immediately interview Highlight. Unfortunately, a certain mech had other ideas. The chief was already waiting for Prowl when he entered the building with Highlight, arms crossed and an unhappy frown on his face.

“Chief –” 

“You’re off the case, Prowl.” Quickgait interrupted him. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” The monochrome mech hissed. “Why?”

The chief looked away. “Your presence as security was requested –”

“I am _not_ responsible for that –”

“ – I couldn’t say now –” 

“ – I just had a break-through in my case, I am needed –” 

“ – it’s just nobody says no to Folgore.”

“ – and I found – wait, _what?_ ” Prowl stared at the chief. “Come again?”

Quickgait ran a ventilation cycle. “Folgore came in not long after you left, demanding to see you. When you weren’t available, he was redirected to me, and he expressed his desire for a mech to accompany him to Iacon as security. For savety measures.” Quickgait pursed his lips. “He explicitly named you.”

“I – you – I am not a bodyguard, and he should hire one of those if he needed one so badly.” Prowl growled lowly. He could feel anger rise in him once again, accompanied by a by now very familiar feeling of hurt. As well as a joyful spin of his spark at the thought of Jazz demanding to accompany him to Iacon. He pushed the last thought down. Prowl refused to be excited by the famous singer. “Also, if Folgore is so worried about his safety, he should either contact the Iaconi Enforcers or cancel his tour.” 

Quickgait pressed his servo over his optics. “His request came with a huge donation to our department, but with the condition that we accept his request. I’m sorry, Prowl, but you are going.” 

“You are basically accepting bribe!” Prowl growled. And where had the money come from? Sure, Jazz had earned a lot lately, but surely not that much? Oh, who was Prowl kidding. He hadn’t known what his ex-lover had been up to most of the time, how should he expect to know his finances? Only, Prowl had been responsible for keeping track of their finances in the past… had Jazz not trusted him?

“It’s not a bribe if we aren’t doing him an illegal favour.” Quickgait said firmly. “I’m sorry, but this is not up for debate. You are going to accompany Folgore to Iacon. Barricade will take the case from you.” The chief raised his servo and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” He motioned for Highlight to follow him. “He’s waiting in your office.”

Prowl watched him go with a sense of helplessness. Oh Primus. Traveling with Jazz to Iacon, being close to him for the entire time… He forced his engine to be quiet and his peds to move. His spark clenched painfully with every step he took towards his office, and dread rose up in his systems. What was he to do?

His office appeared empty when he entered, but then vents brushed his still very sensitive wings, and Prowl shivered. 

“Hello, Prowler. ‘M really lookin’ forward t’ workin’ with ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	5. Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Side Burn meddles and Blaster has to fight the urge to facepalm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, my mind's blown by your comments! Thank you, you're the best! <3

Praxian doorwings were known throughout Cybertron for being so sensitive they were a way to overload their owners with just having them manipulated. It was very, very pleasurable for that mech or femme on the receiving end, especially if their partner was skilled. Which Jazz was. He had to be, after having been in a relationship with a Praxian for four hundred vorns. He knew exactly how to take Prowl to the brink of overload and beyond with only a few, well placed touches. 

Which is why Prowl immediately sought refuge behind his desk when Jazz spoke with Folgore’s voice. When Jazz spoke against his wings, it was the best kind of torture Prowl knew. When Folgore’s voice was used… Well, Jazz had managed to overload him just using his words. 

The enforcer rummaged around in his top drawer for a datapad, using that excuse to compose himself and dial down the sensitivity of his wings. When he finally felt that he had control over himself, Prowl squared his shoulders and faced his ex. Of course, instead of Jazz’s black and white, he was met by Folgore’s stunning looks. His sleek and curvy silver frame was glittering even in the dim light of Prowl’s office, and the green visor sparkled with mirth. 

Prowl forced his vents to remain silent and ruthlessly squashed any reaction he might have had to this sight. He was not going to be affected by Jazz, no matter how gorgeous he was. “I believe we have a lot to discuss.” Prowl was proud of how steady and strong his voice was.

“Wha’, no ‘hello’?” Jazz asked and sat down on the other side of Prowl’s desk. He lifted his peds as if to put them on the table, but immediately put them down when he noticed the Praxian’s glare. 

Prowl decided to ignore any comments, remarks or other phrase of that kind for however long he could and focus on his job. He would try to be as professional as possible. Though, with the way Jazz was scrutinizing him, it was going to be quite hard for him. “While Chief Quickgait told me that I am to accompany you to Iacon, he failed to give me any details. Would you care to fill me in?”

Jazz tilted his helm. “Well, we’ll leave fer th’ tour in two orns, an’ there’ll be at least five concerts distributed throughout an entire quartex. Also, I’ve got a few interviews planned an’ somethin’ important after tha’ quartex. Also, I had hoped we could talk. Like, righ’ now, fer example.” 

“We cannot.” Prowl said. “This will be entirely professional, and I will not be accused of doing something untoward with my clients, nor do I wish a reputation of being a plaything for celebrities.” He flicked his wings at Jazz’s gape. “I assume you will not tell me what you will be doing at the end of the quartex?” 

“Nah, I won’.” Jazz frowned at him. “Why’re ya like this? Ya’re actin’ as if we didn’ know each other.”

“Because, _Folgore_ , I do not know any famous mechs. Also, this is a job to me, nothing more. By the end of the quartex, we will part ways.” Hurt flittered over the musician’s beautiful face, and it shot a pang through Prowl’s spark. 

“Tha’s it? Jus’ like tha’?” Jazz said softly, and the subglyphs he used had Prowl on edge. “Y’know, I ne’er even noticed somethin’ was wrong. All I knew was tha’ everythin’ was perfect, an’ then _bam!_ , yer gone. If ya’d jus’ listen –”

“No, don’t.” Black and white doorwings jerked up into a steep, angry ‘V’. “I already told you I do not want to hear your excuses –”

“If ya’d jus’ let me talk an’ _explain_ fer once –”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Neither looked away from each other, both of their optics (and visor) glinting angrily. After a few kliks, Prowl reminded himself that he needed to allow whoever had knocked to enter and that it was not necessary to glare Jazz into submission. He triggered the door to open. Side Burn and a mech Prowl didn’t know were standing there, an awkward expression on their faceplates. His brother turned apprehensive once he saw who else was in Prowl’s office. 

“Uh, we can come back later?” Side Burn said, his gaze darting between the two ex-lovers.

“That is not necessary.” Prowl sighed. He rose from his seat and glanced at the singer. “If you excuse me, I will return momentarily.” 

Jazz forced a smile onto his face. “O’ course.”

The monochrome enforcer flicked a doorwing at his colleagues to follow him and led them into a small conference room. It currently served as a storage for all the bits and pieces they had gathered from the current case, pinned to either a magnetic wall or strewn all over the table taking up most of the place. 

Prowl motioned for the mech he didn’t know to wait outside, then entered the room with Side Burn. He placed a datapad on the table before turning around to face his brother. “How much did you hear?” He asked.

“Just Jazz’s last sentence. He was talking rather loudly.” Side Burn crossed his arms. “Is it true?”

The monochrome Praxian frowned. “What?” 

“That you’ve never let him explain anything?” Prowl opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut. Well, he hadn’t, not really. Side Burn sighed, exasperated. “Brother, I love you very much, but sometimes I just want to throw you into the wall to see how big a hole I can make! You have to let people _talk_ and _explain_ themselves before shutting them out!”

“I do not _want_ any explanations anymore, Side Burn.” Prowl replied. “He will only reuse all his old excuses, as always. I have listened to them over and over again those last seventy vorns, I will not listen to them any longer if it can be helped.”

Side Burn pinched the ridge of his olfactory and vented his systems. Then he lifted his gaze and met Prowl’s, talking softly. “I won’t tell you what to do or what not. That’s your decision, and it’s your life. But look, Prowl, Jazz was good for you. You’ve always been happier around him, smiled more. He was the reason you opened up to your fellow students at university and the academy. And he was always _there_ for you, supported you whenever you had a rough orn at the precinct. That got to count for something.

“And before you start, I know what he did wasn’t right, and I especially want to punch him in the face for not noticing that you had moved out for two slagging quartexes, but at least hear him out, okay?” He rubbed his forehelm. “I’m not telling you to take him back, just listen to him.”

Prowl exvented softly. “I will probably have no choice in that.” He murmured. 

“What do you mean?” 

Delicate nostrils flared. “Folgore apparently needs a bodyguard for his tour in Iacon, and you may guess whom he requested.” 

Side Burn’s optics widened comically, then he burst into laughter. “Oh, that – I can’t…” He snickered. “Primus, he doesn’t know what’s good for him.” He giggled. “Oh, Primus and the Thirteen.” He caught Prowl’s annoyed glare and snickered some more. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I never thought he had it in him, to basically botnap you. Only, legally.”

“Are you quite done?” Prowl asked. 

“Yes, yes.” Side Burn waved a servo and turned serious. “Okay, um, this changes things. I – I’d still recommend you hear him out and then you can always decide what to do. Just, don’t let him pressure you into something you don’t want.”

The older brother looked away. Should he really let Jazz speak? Prowl feared what the famous singer would say, just as he was afraid of his own reactions. Put him on a case and sit back until he solved it – Prowl didn’t care how gruesome or emotional it was. It usually didn’t bother him, that was just how he was wired. Put a certain Polyhexian in front of him, and his processor was practically useless.

Prowl sighed softly. Maybe Side Burn was right and he should have allowed Jazz to talk. But then he thought back of the evening of their anniversary, about how he had waited and hoped, only to have his spark crushed. The thought was painful enough to bring him to the verge of crying. “Maybe.” He murmured. “I will see how I feel.” He smiled at Side Burn. “You will stay here for the night?” 

Side Burn shrugged his wings and shoulders. “Yeah, it’s probably the best. Having Highlight spill every single dirty secret her family has is too good a chance to pass it up.” He squeezed Prowl’s servo with his own. “Don’t worry, we won’t frag it up. You enjoy your vacation.” He winked at his groaning brother, then stepped away and opened the door. “Better not keep Folgore waiting.”

Prowl glared at him, but exited the room. “I will leave you and Barricade in command of this case, Side Burn. If I come back and you managed to mess it up because, I don’t know, you were too ensnared by Firespark’s red plating, I will hunt you down, understood?”

“Crystal.” Side Burn said happily. “But you have to admit, he _does_ look good.”

Prowl shook his helm fondly and went to his office after one last, affectionate flick of his right doorwing.

***

Jazz was still sitting in the chair, a small pout on his lips. It was adorable, and Prowl had to stop himself before he teased the Polyhexian about it, or worse, kissed it away. He sat down on his own chair and pulled out a datapad to note a few ideas about what he could do in Iacon. He had only been once to the capital city, and he fully intended to use the sparse free time he would have well.

“Wha’re ya writin’?”

Prowl glanced at the singer. “Something personal.” Hurt flickered over Jazz’s face once again before it was gone, and the musician’s shoulders sagged a bit. 

“A’right, understood. No small talk, nothin’ personal.” He sighed heavily. “We’re leavin’ Praxus tomorrow early in th’ morning, so don’ be late. Th’ shuttle’ll take off from bay 3, it’s a private one.” He rose from his seat. “See ya then.” 

Jazz left before Prowl could reply, and the Praxian’s spark throbbed painfully. Primus, what had become of his life?

***

“You did _what?!_ ”

Jazz fidgeted on the couch he was sitting on. To his left with a polite distance was Mirage, uninterestedly inspecting the pain on his servos. Blaster was sitting opposite to him on an armchair opposite to him, horror written all over his face.

“He didn’ wanna talk t’ me, so I had t’ find some way!” The Polyhexian defended himself. “An’ ya can’t really ignore Folgore, can ya?” 

The host frame buried his helm in his servos. “You’re lucky if he doesn’t outright hate you now.” He groaned, then glared at the Towers mech. “And you! I can’t believe you supported his idea!”

Mirage gave him a lofty look. “Jazz had a good idea that might work out, which is why I decided to help my friend out. Besides, I thought a donation to the enforcers was long overdue.” His golden optics flittered to Jazz, and the corners of generous white lips curled upwards. “Not that Jazz needed a lot of help to get the correct amount of shanix for his bribe. Your music does sell well.” 

Blaster’s glare intensified. “Jazz was saving for the bonding ceremony and a nice honeymoon, you idiot. Primus. Remind me to never let the two of you on your own.” He rubbed his face. “Alright, let’s see how we’ll rectify this once we’re in Iacon.” He shook his helm again. “I still can’t believe Mirage talked you into this.”

One delicate optic ridge rose. “The bonding and honeymoon are taken care of. And I will let you know that this was entirely Jazz’s idea.”

“Thank ya, ‘Raj.”

“You are welcome.” The noble pulled out three cubes. “High-grade from the Crystal City.” He raised a cube. “Who wants some?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading:)


	6. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of talking happens, help comes from an unexpected source, and Prowl makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: character deaths in a flashback
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to you guys for all the comments and kudos, you're the best!
> 
> Now on to the second last chapter, I hope you enjoy it:)

The flight to the capital had been surprisingly pleasant. The musicians that would join Jazz on stage were already in Iacon, making sure everything was getting ready which meant that they had the shuttle to themselves. "Them" being Jazz, Blaster, a noblemech named Mirage and Prowl. And while Prowl knew of the host frame who claimed the title of Jazz’s best friend, it had come to a surprise to learn that another mech knew of who Folgore really was.

They had talked about the tour, what kind of songs Jazz would be singing, where Prowl was needed. The topic of their relationship was never even mentioned, and Prowl didn’t know if he was glad or hurt about it. The musician had also only addressed him if he had any questions or requests in regard of Prowl’s job as his bodyguard. 

All the while, Mirage had been glancing at Prowl whenever he thought that the Praxian wasn’t paying attention, and Blaster would sometimes look from one ex-lover to the other and back again. Great. Prowl shifted at the memory and his doorwings fluttered with embarrassment. He knew that Blaster had known about the two of them, they had gone out together sometimes. But the thought that some random noble knew about his personal life had Prowl shifting uncomfortably. 

The Praxian vented deeply and leaned against the guardrail of the skywalk. It wasn’t very well known to mechs outside of Iacon, unlike the famous Galaxywalk. But it suited Prowl just fine, he preferred being alone. His doorwings flared before they dropped into a relaxed slouch, a position Prowl would never allow them to be back in Praxus. Hadeen was starting to set, casting the sky into a colourful mix purple, pink, red orange and gold. 

A small smile appeared on the monochrome mech’s face. Maybe he should take Quickgait’s and his brother’s advise to spark and take some free time. It had been quite a while since he had last been able to relax. Though, he wasn’t here to enjoy Iacon’s scenic view. The smile faded from his lips nearly as soon as it had appeared. What a mess. Why couldn’t he be back seventy vorns ago, when everything had been more than perfect?

A far away sensation had Prowl tense up, and his doorwings tilted to catch the motion. It only took him a split klik to identify the mech approaching him. 

“Nice view, eh?” Blaster said and joined Prowl at the guardrail. 

“Quite so.” Prowl replied and let his optics wander over the skyline of Iacon. Hadeen was nearly gone now, and with it its light, leaving the capital in Cybertron’s luminous blue lights. 

“Hmm.” The host frame hummed. “Enjoying one last night before the start of the tour?”

“I was enjoying the quietness, yes.” 

Blaster chuckled. “Sorry for intruding, mech.” He pursed his lips. “It’s just, I have something to discuss with you.” 

“If it is about Jazz, you should have joined Side Burn three orns ago.” Prowl replied, never taking his optics from the skyline. “He already told me his opinion at full length.” 

“Maybe.” Blaster turned around and leaned back against the guardrail. His elbows were holding most of his weight; servos dangling over the ground. “But I doubt we have the same thing to tell you. I’ll be honest with you, ‘cause I think you value honesty and directness. Jazz is an idiot.” Prowl’s helm shot around, and he stared at the tall mech with startled optics. Blaster grinned. “No denying there.” He grew serious again. “But he’s an idiot in love, and the only thing in his processor right now is getting you back.”

Blaster hesitated, then shook his helm. “Look, ask him about what he was saving his shanix for, I’m sure it’ll interest you. Also, Mirage and I are probably to blame for him being home so rarely. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear, but we were – well, still are, in full swing, and we were busy writing and recording new songs, noting ideas and just doing stuff to get Jazz even more attention than he had. Of course, it doesn’t excuse his neglection of your relationship and you, but by the end of each orn we were basically running on fumes. All three of us, really.”

A breeze caressed Prowl’s doorwings as the host frame vented his systems. “He should have told us that he didn’t have enough time for you, and we shouldn’t have pushed him. He messed up, we messed up, and, to be honest, you could have said something instead of wallowing in self-pity. But what happened is in the past and we need to focus on the present and future.” Blaster turned his helm to meet Prowl’s gaze and smiled. “Doesn’t change that he’s and idiot, though.” 

Prowl returned the smile tentatively. “He is.” The enforcer agreed. “I am still fighting the urge to slap him for doing this to me. I was about to close what is probably the most important case of this century, and he dared and pulled me away.” Prowl sighed and once again trained his optics on the skyline. “But despite his failings, I still love him, and I doubt I will ever not.” A grimace twisted his lips. “And I really am not unflawed.” 

“Aren’t we all.” Blaster lolled his helm back. “Hm, this is nice. I wish I could stay here forever.” Prowl glanced at him, amused, before turning his attention to the now glittering skyline. He took an image capture and sent it to his brothers, then simply enjoyed his free night in companionable silence with his ex’s best friend.

***

The crowd was loud. Prowl sighed from his place behind the stage and hoped that it would be over soon. He had lowered the sensitivity of his wings as far as he dared to, but the noise was starting to grate on them anyways. Big crowds usually did not bother him, but they usually weren’t this _loud_. Another cheer went through the excited fans and the Praxian resisted the urge to bang his helm against the wall. This had been one of the reasons he had never taken Jazz up on his offer to accompany him to one of his concerts. 

“Rough time?” Prowl looked up at the voice, then corrected his direction and lowered his head. Eject was smiling at him. “Don’t worry, there’s only two more songs.” 

“Oh, thank Primus.” The words slipped past Prowl’s glossa and he heated up in embarrassment. The cassette snickered. “If you want to, you can join the rest of us in Folgore’s room.” 

Prowl felt gratitude rise in his systems, which helped in cooling his frame. But he shook his helm despite the urge to accept the offer. “I came as Folgore’s bodyguard, and I would not do my job if I were relaxing with you. But thank you, I appreciate your offer anyways.” 

Eject shrugged and smiled at him. “I understand.” He waved a servo and continued on his way. “See ya later!”

Prowl watched him go. The crowd broke into another enthused cheer, and Prowl regretted turning down the offer when his wings started to transmit white noise. If the other concerts were as bad as this one, Jazz wouldn’t live long enough to give the last one. 

***

Black and white plating gleamed with a freshly applied finish, and Prowl had to admit that he looked good. Not that he was a slouch when it came to his paintjob, he just never particularly cared about it. Especially when he had to go on patrol or had a raid to either coordinate or lead. His paint was usually scratched by the end of it, and it would be a waste of shanix to spend a lot on a new detailing. 

But now that he had the time (and obligation) to get a nice paintjob, Prowl decided that maybe he should indulge himself more often. There was a knock on Prowl’s hotel room, and the Praxian moved from in front of the mirror to the door and opened it. Jazz was standing there as himself, his paint also freshly applied. Only, unlike Prowl who had merely gotten a nice gloss on himself, Jazz had used glitter to highlight just the right places on his frame. He looked stunning, Prowl had to admit.

Jazz opened his mouth to say something, but the glyphs died on his glossa when he saw the monochrome enforcer. The musician’s visor brightened, and he seemed to have forgotten how to close his mouth as it remained open as he continued to stare at the Praxian. Prowl shifted shyly under his gaze and looked away, frame heating up. Primus. Why did he have to react so strongly to this mech?

The Polyhexian regained his bearings after a full breem had passed, and he cleared his vocaliser. “Ya look… ya look ‘mazing, Prowler.” He said softly. “Uh, ya ready t’ head out?”

“Yes.” Prowl said. He grabbed his trusty acid pellet rifle and subspaced it, then stepped out of his hotel room. Jazz flashed him a blinding smile, then headed for the elevator. The lift took them down to the ground floor where Blaster and Mirage were already waiting, as well as Rewind and a green mech with military decals. 

“Ah, Jazz, Prowl.” Mirage greeted them. “Meet my date, Hound. He is a recently promoted Lieutenant-Colonel in the army.” 

Hound heated up. “I told you not to brag about it, ‘Raj.”

The noble flashed him a lofty smile. “I will brag about it until you get used to it. Which will pprobably not happen before your next promotion, I believe however.”

The Lieutenant-Colonel’s frame heated up even more, but the reached out to lace his finger’s with the noblemech’s.

Prowl smiled at them, and Jazz clapped his servos. “Well, congrats. Now, I b’lieve we’re kinda late thanks t’ someone.” He winked at Prowl. “We should leave b’fore th’ restaurant gives our table t’ someone else.” 

“Cromedome’s already there.” Rewind piped up. “He said he’s already talked to the waiter. They know we’re on our way.” 

“Oh, good.” Jazz lead the way to the street and transformed. He popped open a door for Blaster and Rewind to enter, then revved his engine. ::Race ya there!::

“Do not break any speed limits.” Prowl said, then followed Jazz’s example and transformed as well. 

The drive to the drive to the restaurant was pleasant, especially while listening to the chatter between Jazz, Blaster, Mirage and Hound. The surprise waiting at the restaurant, not so much. Prowl hadn’t recognised the mech waiting for them, but once he was back in his root form, there was no way around missing the flashy gold and orange frame. He jerked back while a golden visor brightened in surprise, then instinct took over and the Praxian jumped back into the lane and transformed. 

::You can go ahead and have dinner without me.:: He told Jazz over comms. ::I am not hungry anymore.:: He sped away (still withing speed limit) before anyone could stop him.

***

When Prowl had been a youngling, he had been witness to the murder of his creators. Barricade had been in school, and Side Burn too young to remember anything. Their designations had been Blackstar, Astrosign and Golddust. Golddust and Astrosign, their sire and contributor, had been judges, while Blackstar, their carrier, had been an enforcer. They had helped Quickgait’s predecessor to clean up the Enforcer Corp, but had overseen one femme. 

A mistake that would cost them, and the enforcers, dearly. 

That femme had been a cleaner and the bonded of one of the corrupt enforcers, and she had not been happy with having both her conjunx behind bars and the family she had been working for dismantled. So she had taken her anger out on the mechs she felt were responsible for her losses. First, she had killed Quickgait’s predecessor, then she had forcedly entered the home of the judges who had spoken the verdict. Prowl had been in the kitchen with Golddust, baking oilmuffins, when his contributor had screamed in pain before crumbling to the ground. And before the youngling’s optics, his contributor’s frame had greyed. 

Prowl had cried out, shaken the dead mech’s frame to try and wake him, before running through the house to find his other two creators. He found them in the living room. Golddust was already dead on the ground, but Blackstar was still alive. The enforcer had engaged the cleaner in a servo-to-servo combat. Prowl could still remember the next few kliks as if it had just happened. He had cried out his carrier’s designation, effectively distracting him. The femme hadn’t hesitated, and with a swift strike, had run a knife through Blackstar’s spark. Then she had turned to Prowl, gun raised. After that, only darkness.

Later, after having woken up in the hospital, Prowl had been told that his carrier had still been alive and attacked the cleaner when she had shot Prowl, so instead of getting a hole through his processor, it had merely grazed his helm. Still, the shot had destroyed an important connection between Prowl’s emotional cortex and his unique tactical systems, which resulted in Prowl being unable to connect his emotions with the world around him. 

The medics had been unable to do anything, so they had recommended that Prowl got treated by mnemosurgeons. Barricade, who had only been a young mechling, had to make a decision. Desperate for any help, he had agreed with the medics, and a mnemosurgeon had been called. The surgeon had been able to establish a connection between those two parts of Prowl’s processor, but unfortunately at a cost that no one had anticipated: every time Prowl got either overwhelmed emotionally or something overly illogical happened, his systems overclocked and he crashed.

Barricade had been furious. He had called in every favour any mech had ever owed their creators and sued the mnemosurgeon. The jury had voted in his favour, but it was of no real use for Prowl, who had to learn to live with his glitch. He managed to get some control over it, and crashes now happened only rarely. But still, any mention of mnemosurgeons or the sight of long needles never failed to either crash him or freeze him to the spot he was standing.

During Prowl’s time at the Academy, he had met an Iaconi exchange student. His designation had been Tumbler, and they had become quick friends. After a while, they had even started dating. But then Tumbler had revealed that he wanted to become a mnemosurgeon. His interest had begun when he had witnessed one of Prowl’s crashes, and he wanted to find a way to get rid of that glitch. 

Prowl had been flabbergasted. After everything he had told Tumbler, after he had entrusted the Iaconian with his secret, he wanted to go and become one of those monsters had turned him into this mess? What had followed was one of the worst fights in Prowl’s entire life.

Not a quartex later, Prowl had met a certain visored Polyhexian with a happy-go-lucky attitude and a way with glyphs, that had Prowl confused about what was happening. And before he had known what actually _was_ going on, he had already given his seals to that mech. It was in the aftermath of their first interface that Prowl had finally caught up with the present, and by then it had already been too late for him. He had already fallen for the whirlwind that was Jazz.

Prowl transformed and found himself back at the skywalk. He was crying again, but that was okay since nobody else was there to witness his little meltdown. There was no doubt in his processor that Chromedome was Tumbler. They looked exactly the same. White servos came up to cover his face, and Prowl deliberately slowed his venting. He wouldn’t crash if he could help it, and he especially would not crash because of Tumbler. That mech didn’t deserve his pain. 

“I never thought I would see you again.”

Prowl flinched violently and whirled around. There he was standing, unreadable behind his mask and visor, gleaming in Cybertron’s blue light. “Tumbler.” Prowl said, then turned back to lean over the guardrail. “I came here to be alone.” 

“I know.” Steps were coming closer until the mnemosurgeon was standing to Prowl’s right, exactly where Blaster had been standing not so many orns ago. “But I figured we needed to talk.” 

“Talk.” Prowl said wit disdain. “Everybody needs to _talk_ to me. To explain. To have me listen. Well, I am sick of listening!”

Tumbler shot him a look. “Are you really?” He asked. “Or are you merely seeking excuses? Waiting for a certain mech to talk to you?” He looked away when Prowl frowned at him. “When Rewind told me who was coming to dinner tonight and he mentioned your name, I told him everything that had happened between the two of us. When my designation had still been ‘Tumbler’. It’s Chromedome now, just so you know. And in turn, Rewind told me everything he knew about you and Jazz. About your situation.” A soft laugh. “It’s amazing how much cassettes hear.” 

“That was personal.” Prowl said, miffed that Tumbler – Chromedome – out of all mechs knew about his love life.

“And yet, I might be the one to help you.” The mnemosurgeon said. “I know you are afraid of me, of what I represent. I didn’t understand in the past, but I do now.” He lifted a white servo, and a long, thin needle came out from the tip of his index. Chromedome scrutinised it, then the needle disappeared again. “Your glitch is a remainder of the past and what had happened, and you seem to be unable to let go.” He turned to face Prowl. “But the past is the past, so _do_ let go. You’ll just destroy your future if you don’t.” Chromedome pushed away from the guardrail. “Rewind and I are going somewhere else, so you can join the others without having to see me.” 

Prowl watched him go, but before he was out of audio reach, he called out. “Thank you.” 

Chromedome paused, and looked over his shoulder back to Prowl. “You’re welcome.” Then he was gone. 

***

Prowl was standing in front of the restaurant, a pensive expression on his face. He was watching a certain table with four mechs, one blue and white, on green, one was a host frame and the last one was the one Prowl actually cared about. Jazz was talking to Blaster, gesturing animatedly with his servos, a happy expression on his face. But Prowl could see the pain he hid in the way Jazz’s shoulders were positioned, and how he didn’t throw his helm back when laughing as he usually did.

Prowl bit his lower lip. Chromedome was right. He shouldn’t let his stubbornness destroy everything, and he really should at least let Jazz explain himself. Maybe give him a second chance, depending on what he would say. 

The Praxian looked at the empty seats where Rewind and the mnemosurgeon should have been, and his optics softened. He had been able to make peace with his past thanks to his little talk with Chromedome, now he only needed to make peace with his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!:)


	7. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again not proof-read, since it's already after midnight here. If you notice any glaring mistakes, please let me know:)
> 
> Thank you to all of you who supported me with comments and kudos, you're the best! Kudos for you;)

“Y’know, I missed ya at dinner.”

Prowl tilted his wings in acknowledgement of the speaker, but didn’t turn around to face him. His attention was focused on the small silver crystal he was trying to safe. The Praxian wasn’t usually a mech attached to objects, but this particular crystal had the exact same shade as Jazz’ optics, which somehow had translated in his processor as having to try his best to nourish it back to health.

“I don’ s’ppose it had somethin’ t’ do with how ya bolted once ya saw Chromedome?”

White servos stilled. “It might have had.” Prowl replied. He scrutinised the crystal, then turned around to face the musician. “But that is unimportant now.” 

“Hm.” Jazz was leaning against the door of Prowl’s hotel room, arms crossed. His paint was still glittering. “Ya sure?” 

“Quite so.” The enforcer rose from his position in front of the small coffee table and sat down on the couch. “Please, join me.” 

Jazz tilted his helm, then pushed himself off the wall and followed Prowl’s request, though he left a polite distance between them. An awkward silence spread between them, neither meeting the other’s gaze. Finally, the Polyhexian broke it with a soft chuckle. “Look at us. One would think we didn’ know each other.”

Prowl gave him a small smile. “Indeed.” He hesitated. Talking to Jazz had always been so _easy_. Now, well, Prowl hope they would get there again. “Jazz, we need to talk. I understand I should let you explain, and I am willing to listen to you one last time.” 

Visor brightening, Jazz sat up straight. “Ya would? Oh, great. I mean, thanks. Fer trying’. I didn’ think… well, I thought, y’know –”

“Jazz.” Prowl interrupted him. “You are rambling.” 

The visor brightened some more. “Righ’. Sorry.” Jazz vented deeply and shuffled a bit closer. He opened his mouth, but no sound left it. The musician chuckled helplessly and shook his helm. “I had an entire speech prepared fer whenya’d finally give me a chance, an’ now I’ve forgotten everythin’.” He put his servo over Prowl’s and squeezed gently. “I fragged up, I know tha’. It’s jus’, I don’ know how, ‘cause ya ne’er said anythin’. I…” He trailed off. “Prowler, ya gotta talk t’ me. I can’t read minds, unfortunately, an’ I didn’ notice I was neglectin’ ya. I should’ve, make no mistake, I really should. Bu’ I didn’, an’ I can’t rectify th’ past, so all I can do is beg fer yer forgiveness.”

Prowl looked away. “It is not that easy.” He said softly. “I want to, or my spark wants to, but I keep wondering if it might not be a mistake. Because I trusted you, more than my brothers even, and you broke that trust. And it might have been forgivable had it happened only once, but it did not. It happened over seventy vorns, and I cannot forget that.”

“I know.” Jazz said, frustrated. “Trus’ me, I know. I jus’ wanna kick m’self fer not noticin’. I should’ve, ‘cause fer wha’ ya mean t’ me. I need ya, need ya ‘cause I love ya, an’ I couldn’t imagine life without ya.” He gave a lopsided smile. “An’ our race lives long.”

Prowl faced him, optics locked with silver ones hidden behind a visor. “I love you, too. Primus knows I tried not to, but you are just too integral a part of me that I seem to be unable to forget you.”

Jazz’s field bloomed with hope and he leaned in, hesitantly. Prowl didn’t move away, even though his processor was screaming at him to leave while he was still able to. The musician nuzzled first Prowl’s cheek, then his nose, and then, ever so slowly, he very gently pressed their lips together. It was nothing more than that, just a chaste kiss. And yet, it held more love and intimacy than most of their love making the last few hundred vorns. 

“Good?” Jazz asked, unusual shyness marking his glyph. 

“No.” Prowl breathed. The Polyhexian jerked back, surprise and hurt all over his face. Prowl gave him a tiny smile, lifted his servos and took the musician’s beautiful face between them. Then he locked their lips together, wiggling his glossa between slack lips. Jazz was too surprised to react, and Prowl deepened their kiss, reexploring the singer’s familiar mouth. After a moment, Jazz regained his equilibrium and he started to kiss back, giving as good as he got, before wrenching control from Prowl. The Praxian moaned softly when he felt Jazz’ glossa slip into his mouth and sucked lightly, relishing in the way Jazz’s high-performance engine growled. 

Prowl broke the kiss soon after. His vents were working furiously, active both because of his arousal and nervousness of what he was doing with whom. But there was a line he wouldn’t, couldn’t, cross just now, and he knew from the way Jazz’s optics were shuttered and his servos curled into fists that the singer was respecting his wish.

“This was good.” Prowl murmured and ran his servo up and down the Polyhexian’s side.

Jazz’s lips twitched. “Mean, Prowler. Fer a moment I’d thought ya didn’ want this.” 

“I do want this.” Prowl vented softly and leaned his chevronshield against the crest of Jazz’s helm. “But just kisses for now.” 

The musician sagged. “Pro’ly gotta thank m’self fer tha’.” He sighed. “Bu’ tha’s okay. Whate’er ya want, _whene’er_ ya want.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Prowl’s lips. “I promise.”

“How can I know you will do what you promise me now?” Prowl asked softly. Jazz twitched, and the Praxian placed a servo on a white thigh. “I know it had not been your intention, but you did it anyways. And…” Prowl swallowed thickly and lowered his helm, unable to look at Jazz while admitting a weakness he wished he didn’t have. “And I doubt I could go through andother sparkbreak if you were the one to cause it.”

“I’m so sorry, Prowl.” Jazz whispered, holding the Praxian close. “I’m so sorry.” 

Prowl could feel the tears gathering in his optics, and his engine hiccupped. “You hurt me.” He said softly, his tone filled with pain. “Repeatedly.” 

“I know.” Jazz pulled back and stared into his optics, his own visor retracted to show his brilliant silver optics. “An’ I wsish I could turn back th’ time t’ make it righ’. I was too absorbed in makin’ more music an’ money t’ be able t’ offer ya somethin’ tha’ I didn’ realise I was a’ready losin’ ya. Bu’ everythin’ I got don’ mean anythin’ if I can’t share it with ya. Ya’re th’ centre in m’life, Prowler, th’ eye o’ th’ storm. Without ya, life don’ mean anythin’ t’ me.” He pressed the crest of his helm against Prowl’s chevron. “Please, love, come back t’ me. I’d do anythin’, promised, even give up my career.”

Prowl jerked back with shock. “You… what?” 

Jazz gave him a lopsided smile. “Anythin’ fer ya.”

“No, Jazz, I cannot ask that of you. You worked so hard, and it was your dream since you were but a sparkling, and –”

“And it means nothin’ t’ me if I don have ya.” Jazz interrupted him. “Look, there’s only two concerts left, an’ I’ll announce on th’ last one tha’ I’ll be on a break. Ya’re more important than tha’, which is why I need t’ find a way t’ make this work. It should’ve been th’ first thing I should’ve done, bu’ I didn’ and ya paid th’ price, an’ no more.” He pulled Prowl close again and pressed a kiss to the side of his helm. “No more.”

Prowl melted against the Polyhexian’s frame, tension he hadn’t know was in his frame bleeding out, as he relaxed for the first time since he had broken up with Jazz. They had been silent for a while, enjoying each other’s company, when Jazz suddenly spoke up. “Ya do know tha’ ya’re not actually here ‘cause I needed a bodyguard?” 

The Praxian stiffened before sitting up. “No. You do not get to do this to me.” He glared. “I _am_ your bodyguard until you return to Praxus, because otherwise I will strangle you.” Jazz opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again. “Good. Try to stay in my good graces. I had to leave what probably would have been one of the most important cases in my career because of you.” 

Jazz cringed. “Uh, sorry?”

“You would have been, had something gone wrong. But,” Prowl’s lips twitched up, “Barricade commed me this morning to tell me that they had managed to finish the case and just needed to wrap up some lose ends.”

“’M glad, seriously.” Jazz pressed a kiss to his cheek, and warmth bloomed through the Praxian’s frame. 

Maybe this truly was worth risking his spark. 

***

Prowl contemplated the high-grade bottled in his servos, then decided to use the Vosnian engex. It was a special occasion after all, one that Prowl had never thought he would see. Of course, he wouldn’t have any high-grade, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge his lover. His relationship with Jazz had flourished once they had returned to Praxus, and it was stronger than it had before. That didn’t mean there had been no hardships, because there had been. Quite a few. One even had been due to Prowl being home rarely after his promotion to Chief, but a quick reminder from Jazz about how Prowl had felt when in the Polyhexian’s position had changed the Praxian’s behaviour. 

Tonight, they would be celebrating their seven hundred vorns anniversary, and Prowl had taken the orn off to prepare a special meal for his lover. Now the only thing missing was Jazz, but he still had half a joor. Prowl wasn’t worried, not anymore. Not after everything they had gone through.

A white servo sneaked up under his bumper, and he caressed the flat protoform beneath. It wouldn’t remain that way for too long. The door swished open and Jazz called out to Prowl, a cheery tune instead of a mere call. “Hey, babe.” Jazz pressed against Prowl’s back and kissed his neck cables. “How ya doin’? This smells ‘mazing, by th’ way.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Prowl turned around and stole a quick kiss from white lips. “I have something to tell you.” 

“Yeah, me too. Let me go firs’?” 

The Praxian smiled. “Of course, love.” 

Jazz pecked him and unsubspaced a vaguely familiar looking small silver box. “I’ve had this fer quite some time now, bu’ I figured now was th’ time t’ give it t’ ya.” He opened the box, and Prowl felt his spark freeze in its casing. A beautiful small brooch was lying in it, glittering in blue and red and silver. The small crystal in the middle matched the colour of Jazz’s optics perfectly. 

“Oh.” Prowl breathed. 

Jazz gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah. I know most o’ our friends an’ family’re already expectin’ it fer vorns, bu’ I figured I had t’ wait fer a special moment, an’ now it th’ perfect moment. Prowler, love o’ m’ life, will ya do me th’ honour an’ bond with me?” 

“Oh, Jazz.” Prowl said elatedly. “Of course. A thousand times over.” He magnetized the brooch to the left horn of his chevron, then pulled the Polyhexian into a deep kiss. “Take this to the berth?” He asked. 

“Food’s getting’ cold.” Jazz replied, but leaned in to kiss his intended anyways. 

“We can always heat it up.” Prowl replied and pulled the Polyhexian into their bedroom and onto the berth they owned now for nearly seven hundred vorns. His own news could wait. After all, the little spark next to Prowl’s own would go nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this story! Thank you for reading:)


End file.
